


Bones

by cloudcraft



Series: from dusk to dawn [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fights, M/M, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudcraft/pseuds/cloudcraft
Summary: "He should have done this weeks ago. There had been opportunities. The volleyball graduation dinner when Nishinoya found Asahi taking a break outside the restaurant. They watched the clouds pass over the moon and talked about what a good captain Ennoshita would be. That would have been a good time to have this conversation. Or even the subsequent weekend, when Nishinoya appeared on Asahi’s doorstep for an early morning jog. They ran along the river and looped through a hilly residential block, finally stopping for a break at the park by Asahi’s old elementary school. That would have been the perfect time to broach the topic. Instead, he chickened out every time. He opted to spend a few more uncomplicated hours with Nishinoya, pretending that everything was normal and that he wasn’t going to be leaving when spring came."An argument on Asahi's graduation day leads to three long years of silence. During the winter of Nishinoya's second year in university, an minor injury brings him back home to Miyagi.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to [bananashiro](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bananashiro/pseuds/bananashiro) for so much detailed feedback and patience.
> 
> This is meant to follow in continuity from [Hands](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6033652) and [Wings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6333520) (lol you see what I did there?) but it's not strictly necessary to read them first.
> 
> Asahi attending university is technically not canon, but for the purposes of this story I'm working with the assumption that his family encourages him to go.

“Man, I know it’s only March, but couldn’t spring come a month early just this once?” 

It wouldn’t be a Miyagi graduation without somebody griping about the lack of sakura blossoms. To a certain degree, Asahi understood the fixation on the romanticized graduation ceremony. Everybody wanted it to be an appropriately grand symbol of their transition from high school into adulthood. 

The grey skies and skeletal tree branches, on the other hand, reflected Asahi’s state of mind uncomfortably well. 

They moved through the motions of the ceremony as rehearsed. The third year students—rather, newly christened high school graduates—received their diplomas, listened to speeches, sang their song, and exited the gym in two neat rows. There were shout-outs to their favorite teachers, class chants, and crying, so much crying. Asahi had never seen so many crying high school girls in his life. 

Honestly, the main thing that kept him from losing his composure was how _cold_ it was in the gym. That, and between the end of the Spring Tournament and the volleyball club graduation dinner, he’d shed all the tears he had.

Only after the graduating students went back to their classrooms and received their yearbooks were they finally free from the constraints of ceremony. The cameras and permanent markers came out in full force. Hoots and cheers echoed down the second floor corridors as everybody dispersed to find their friends and family.

It didn’t take long for the members of the Karasuno volleyball team to find one another. 

Asahi spied Daichi and Suga on the edge of the baseball diamond, facing a small circle of second years. Nishinoya and Tanaka were already in tears, Ennoshita looking like he was going to break any second. Some of the first years were jogging over from the gym through the melted snow—Hinata appeared to be running and sobbing simultaneously.

And then somebody spotted Asahi. 

Almost in unison, the team turned his way and broke into a run. Asahi wasn’t sure whether to feel touched or terrified. It was like being mobbed by a pack of crying zombies. 

Fists were bumped, photos were snapped, and additional tears were shed with great dignity and masculinity. Asahi oscillated wildly between “I’m so lucky to have these guys” and “please get me out of here.” 

As always, Nishinoya noticed. Amid the chatter and embraces, he slipped a hand around Asahi’s wrist and tugged him away from the fray. 

“Be right back!” he said to nobody in particular. If anybody thought their exit was strange, they didn’t offer any comment. How Nishinoya could make himself loudly present in one moment and invisible the next was a thing of wonder. With a faint grin, Nishinoya whisked them behind the second gymnasium to a shady strip of dirt between the back wall and the outer fence.

It was an old haunt of sorts, if the supply closet in the gym happened to be in use. Nishinoya nudged him in first, pushing his back up against the gymnasium wall.

“Congratulations on graduating , Asahi-san.” 

Nishinoya’s grin broadened into a full catlike smirk. He grabbed hold of both lapels of Asahi’s jacket, lifting himself onto his toes for a long, tender kiss, his mouth hot against the late winter cold. Asahi laid his hands on Nishinoya’s back and shoulders instinctively, bringing their bodies flush against one another. Humming contentedly, Nishinoya leaned his smaller frame against Asahi’s legs to push himself higher up on Asahi’s body. 

Warmth and dread pooled in his stomach, swirling counter to one another. Nishinoya was happy for him, willing to be excited instead of upset at his graduating. Even as Asahi felt himself melting into the kiss, and the kisses that followed it, the twisting of his stomach grew more insistent. His hands began to shake. 

“Asahi…?” Nishinoya pulled away with a puzzled expression. “Is now a bad time?” 

“No,” Asahi said quickly, then added, “well, yes, kind of.” 

Nishinoya frowned. He let go of Asahi’s collar and settled back onto his heels. He said nothing, but he might as well have been tapping his foot for how clearly his expression said, “ _what_?”

This did nothing to calm Asahi’s nerves. 

He should have done this weeks ago. There had been opportunities. 

The volleyball graduation dinner when Nishinoya found Asahi taking a break outside the restaurant. They watched the clouds pass over the moon and talked about what a good captain Ennoshita would be. That would have been a good time to have this conversation. 

Or even the subsequent weekend, when Nishinoya appeared on Asahi’s doorstep for an early morning jog. They ran along the river and looped through a hilly residential block, finally stopping for a break at the park by Asahi’s old elementary school. That would have been the perfect time to broach the topic. 

Instead, he chickened out every time. He opted to spend a few more uncomplicated hours with Nishinoya, pretending that everything was normal and that he wasn’t going to be leaving when spring came. 

So here he was, pressed up against the wall behind the gym with Nishinoya looking him straight in the eye, demanding an answer. 

“Are you worried about university again?” Nishinoya raised his brow sharply, but his tone was soft. He was kind, too kind. 

“I’m always worried about university,” Asahi laughed quietly. Nishinoya didn’t laugh with him. 

“So what is it? Are you mad I dragged you away from Daichi-san and Suga-san? We can go back.” 

If he didn’t say it now, he would never have the guts to say it to Nishinoya’s face again. He took a deep breath and let it out before he could stop himself. 

“I think we should give each other some space.” 

Nishinoya’s brow slowly unfurrowed, his mouth falling wordlessly open. That small moment of shock registering on his face seemed to last an eternity. As the type who dwelled on moments of regret and failure, Asahi knew this would be with him for some time.

Before Asahi could get another word in, Nishinoya’s jaw tightened. He narrowed his eyes and scowled up at Asahi. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh? Are you saying we’re breaking up?” Nishinoya’s voice was quiet, but knife-sharp. 

“Not… exactly—”

“Doesn’t sound to me like we’re staying together,” Nishinoya growled. 

“We were never technically dating to begin with,” Asahi said softly. As soon as he said it, he realized it was a mistake. But it was too late to put the lid back on that box. 

Nishinoya bristled and took a full step back from Asahi. 

“So that’s it, huh? You go off to college and it’s like the last few months never happened?” 

“Noya, that’s not what I’m saying—” 

“Well what _are_ you saying?” Nishinoya’s voice rose to a shout. Asahi instinctively glanced to the side to check if anybody was nearby, which only seemed to anger Nishinoya further. He threw up his arms to drag Asahi’s attention back to him. “Speak up, because I can’t hear you through all your _bullshit_!” 

Asahi flinched, his knees buckling automatically. They’d talked about the effect it had on him when Nishinoya raised his voice. Nishinoya didn’t seem to care anymore. That alone made his chest ache, but he couldn’t run away now. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be this… involved in each other’s lives when we can’t see each other.” Asahi felt his voice trembling and he made himself quieter, as if that would hide it.

Nishinoya lowered his voice as well, but this didn’t remove any of the venom from his tone. 

“You could come back and visit,” he said. Asahi had enough presence of mind to realize what a _child_ Nishinoya was being. It was like he wasn’t listening to anything Asahi was saying at all. 

“You have more important things to be doing than waiting around for me.” 

Nishinoya snorted loudly in response. 

“Are you kidding, this isn’t even _about_ me! This is about you!” He punctuated his accusation with a hard shove on Asahi’s chest, pushing him against the wall again. His lips curled savagely. “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind. Who would want to deal with their annoying high school boyfriend when they’re off meeting new people in college, right?” 

Something in Asahi snapped. He drew himself up to his full height again, pushing Nishinoya right back. 

“That’s not it at all!” Looking down on Nishinoya again took some of the fight out of him. He exhaled heavily. “A long distance relationship would be hard on both of us.” 

“I don’t care, Asahi-san, I can handle it.” 

God, he just _didn’t listen_. It took all of Asahi’s patience not to walk away then and there. But he lacked the patience to hold back what he was thinking. 

What was _wrong_ with Nishinoya? Why would he fight so hard for somebody who never deserved him in the first place? 

Except Asahi didn’t say that. Instead, he said:

“How can you even know that I’m worth the effort when you’ve never been with anybody else?” 

At that, Nishinoya clenched his hands into fists, his whole body seizing up. He shook with livid energy and for a second Asahi readied himself to take a punch. 

Instead, Nishinoya slammed his fist back on the fence behind him, sending a rattling wave down its length. Asahi felt the tremors reverberate through his ribs as strongly as if Nishinoya had punched him instead. Asahi almost wished that he had.

A snarl distorted Nishinoya’s face, his cheeks and eyes flushed deep red. He had never seen Nishinoya so angry, not even when Asahi quit the team. 

“You’re the same as ever, Asahi-san,” Nishinoya spat. “A liar and a complete fucking coward.”

He regarded Asahi silently for a moment, looking like he was reconsidering throwing that punch. 

Asahi opened his mouth and nothing came out. After all, Nishinoya was right. He was a coward. He dropped his gaze and leaned back against the gymnasium wall. 

At that clear marker of defeat, Nishinoya’s arms went slack at his sides. He too cast his eyes down at the ground and turned away. His receding footfalls were heavy against the dirt. Not too far away, the sounds of celebration continued to echo over the school grounds. 

A few moments after Nishinoya had gone, Asahi noticed that his eyes were watering. 

How strange, he thought he didn’t have it left in him. 

Feeling like a child instead of a newly christened adult, he brought his forearm to his face and let himself cry.  
  
  
  
_March, three years later_  
  
Nishinoya woke up on a hardwood floor, his face uncomfortably close to their setter’s ass. His head weighed a ton, thoughts white noise, mouth dry. He groaned, and pushing himself into a sitting position, a sharp pain shot up his leg. He winced.

Ah, right.

Yup. It was all coming back to him now. 

He’d fallen asleep in his clothes from yesterday, a leather jacket over a white v-neck and jeans. Incidentally, this outfit was going to be his clothes for today too. His hair also needed fixing. Ever since he’d started wearing his hair longer and tied back in a short ponytail, he hadn’t needed to bother with spiking the back, but the front had fallen loose overnight. That was fine, he had hair wax in his bag.

A cursory glance around the room revealed that most of the Nittaidai volleyball team was still in the process of waking up. Not only that, Nishinoya was going to miss his train if he didn’t get a move on. He raked his hair out of his face and cleared his throat. 

“Anybody seen my crutches?”  
  
  
Given the choice, Nishinoya would’ve preferred a ride from their captain or the other second year libero. But neither of them picked up when Nishinoya called, so less than thirty minutes later he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of their wing spiker’s obnoxiously flashy car. 

At least Bokuto had the decency to bring him coffee. 

“So how’s the ankle?” Bokuto’s ordinary voice was loud enough to be heard over the music, some kind of electronic dance mix. “Didn’t stop you from putting the moves on that girl from the swim team, that’s for sure. Did you end up going home with her after I left?” 

“I’m not going to bring a girl back to my place with a sprained ankle, Bokuto-san.” Nishinoya glared down his feet, one in its usual hi-top sneaker and the other wrapped in bandages, splinted, and slipped in a rubber sandal. He would rather be mismatched than wear a full pair of crocs. The small elements of resistance mattered. 

“I did get her number though,” he added, only the slightest bit smug. “So I know what I’m doing when I’m back on my feet.” 

Bokuto laughed in his usual full, squawking way, coming down a little too fast on the brakes—he was a notoriously horrible driver. At least he’d get to the station in time to make his train. 

“So you’re done tiptoeing around that sports science grad student?” Bokuto waggled his eyebrows. 

“I’m sure as hell done talking to _you_ about it.” Nishinoya side-eyed his driver as he took a long gulp of coffee. 

“What, was he not tall enough?” 

In response, Nishinoya reached down and cranked up the volume on the stereo. Bokuto started shouting over the bass. 

“I’m just saying, man!” 

Nishinoya groaned. He should’ve known better than to try and shut Bokuto up. Giving up, he turned the volume back down. Bokuto lowered his voice as well, but only slightly.

“And anyway, that’s not the only reason to get better fast. Coach says that starting next semester, the upperclassmen can expect scouters from Panasonic, Suntory—all the big names. Would suck if you were still benched for that.”

“Sure would.” 

Nishinoya leaned on the door and stared out the window, watching the skyscrapers dive over and under the expressway guard rails. Grey metal bars over grey buildings on a grey March sky. 

When did living in Tokyo started feeling so… lame? He noted Bokuto’s reflection in the glass, glancing at him expectantly. Nishinoya sighed. 

“You got a preference?” 

“F.C. Tokyo.” Not a moment of hesitation. “Don’t really wanna move to Osaka. But if that’s the only way to go to the Olympics, then hey.” 

“Wonder if they’d make you wear a suit.” 

“Don’t even talk about that, man, it’s not funny. What about you, Noya?” 

“Bokuto-san, wasn’t that the ramp for Tokyo Station?” 

Bokuto slammed on the breaks, jerking Nishinoya’s whole body forward.

“Shit, oops, okay I got this,” Bokuto yammered on as he started shifting lanes towards the next possible exit. 

_Why_ , Nishinoya asked himself, did he have so few friends who could drive. 

At least that conversation was over. He shielded his coffee from spilling and barked instructions, glad that Bokuto’s short term memory was even worse than his driving.  
  
  
He passed out as soon as he settled into his seat on the shinkansen. More proof that convenience store coffee was essentially toilet water. Next thing he knew, the lady on the intercom was announcing that they were arriving in Sendai. Somewhere between Tokyo and Miyagi, he’d drooled all over the lapel of his jacket. 

Getting off the train and down the platform with his crutches and his bag was a hellish obstacle course of lines and fucking _tall people_. But it was all worth it when he made it to the ticket gates. 

On the other side of the turnstiles, checking his phone with his other hand shoved in his pocket, stood the best human in all of Japan. He wore a baggy sweater and a puffy down jacket over sweatpants and winter boots. Nishinoya might have had a hard time spotting him if not for that bright orange flop beanie he wore during the winter. Tohoku temperatures stung something brutal when you had zero hair coverage. 

“Ryu!!” Nishinoya bellowed over the crowd. 

Ryu’s head snapped up. The moment he set eyes on Nishinoya, his whole face split into a wide grin. Nishinoya wedged through the gates and hobbled over as fast as he could manage. Once Ryu came within grabbing distance, he’d had enough. Throwing his crutches to the ground, Nishinoya gave his best friend a proper hug. 

Ryu’s hugs were bone-crushing and eardrum-shattering—he usually started yelling in your ear before he let go. Inevitably, he’d lift Nishinoya a few centimeters off the ground without trying. No matter how many layers both of them piled on, Nishinoya always felt swallowed up in his friend’s excitement and warmth. 

In short, Ryu hugs were amazing.

“Noya, dude, it’s only been a few months!! I look away for like a second and you’re on crutches, what gives?!”

Nishinoya laughed. Or laughed as best as he could with Ryu squishing his lungs. 

“I limp all this way over to visit and that’s the best you got to say to me?!” 

They let go of each other and grinned. Ryu lifted his fist and Nishinoya bumped his own against it. 

Landing painfully on his leg and remembering his unfortunate luggage, he bent over to pick up his crutches from the station floor. Ryu crouched down to help him.

“Thanks for picking me up, man.” Nishinoya collected the crutches under his arms and leaned on his left side. 

“Like I’m gonna let my bro take the local lines when he’s basically an invalid.” Ryu clapped Nishinoya on the shoulder. “Besides, I got the whole day off and scored some pretty cheap parking. You wanna catch a movie before we drive back?” 

“Oh _hell_ yeah.”  
  
  
Hanging out with Ryu again was gloriously uncomplicated. On their way back home, they grabbed convenience store bentos and scarfed them down at a rest stop. Ryu took the moment to fill Nishinoya in on all the hometown gossip. 

“So Ennoshita’s been basically unreachable since he’s been trying to get an internship for this summer. Let me tell you, I didn’t expect to be spending more time with Shimada and Takinoue than the guys from our year.” 

“My bad, man.” Nishinoya offered a smile around a mouthful of rice. Ryu waved it off—they’d been over that topic plenty of times. “What about Saeko-neesan?” 

“She’s still in Sendai, working at that bar. Doesn’t come home much because Mom keeps getting on her case about getting married.” Ryu shrugged. “She asks about you sometimes though.”

“Yeah? Tell her I’m doing good, keeping on that grind.” 

“Tell her yourself, loser.” 

They threw away their empty trays and hit the road again. Ryu’s car was a Tanaka family hand-me-down, but the music was so much better than Bokuto’s. The old speakers blared J-pop hits and enka ballads from the same burned CDs that Ryu had owned for years. Ryu’s robust singing voice compensated for the drops in sound quality. Nishinoya tapped along with his good foot, singing along for a chorus or two when he remembered the words. 

Outside, the Miyagi landscape rushed by, the buildings slowly shrinking and the sun sinking lower in the sky as they moved farther from Sendai. Suburban shopping complexes turned into industrial manufacturing plants and shipping yards, with rice paddies stretching all the way out to the mountains. If he looked close, he could see snow remaining on the peaks. 

A smile curled across Nishinoya’s face at the familiar scenery. 

“So how long do you think you’ll be in town this time? Until the ankle heals?” Ryu glanced over the gear shift at Nishinoya’s bandaged leg. 

“Nah, it’ll be a while before it heals completely, but it’s not that bad. I can technically walk on it, I’m just not supposed to.”

“So what, a couple days before you head back?” 

“I talked to my coach and professors and they said I could take a week off, provided I use all that time to rest.” Of course, he’d proceeded to hop on a shinkansen to Sendai and wobble around the downtown area on his crutches. Nishinoya figured he could count his week of rest starting tomorrow. 

Rather than reproaching him, Ryu nodded knowingly.

“So does that mean I should rent some movies and games for tomorrow?” 

“Is there anything stopping us from doing that now?” 

Ryu cackled and pulled off the highway onto the series of local roads that would bring them home.  
  
  
There were some advantages to staying at home. One: there were always leftovers in the fridge, hand-made by his little sister if not his father. Two: since his little brother got Nishinoya’s bedroom when he moved out, they gave Nishinoya the tatami room in the back of the house. Three: His mother had left him two stacked-up futon pads with an extra-soft futon on top, pointedly leaving a small alarm clock beside the pillow. Good old mom. 

The disadvantages. One: Ryu lived close by, but not so close that Nishinoya was willing to hop on his crutches and risk wiping out on the icy streets. Besides, Ryu worked through most of the day. Two: he could only read through the same manga so many times before he started to get a little stir crazy. Three: Unless there was a good shoot-em-up movie on, he didn’t watch much TV either. 

Nishinoya ended up fidgeting back and forth on his extra-soft futon, scrolling through the same boring social media posts on his phone. What had he done the other times he’d injured himself? It wasn’t even that long ago, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him. 

When Ryu finally called, Nishinoya mashed his finger on the “accept call” button and tried not to sound too desperate. 

“Hey dude, I forgot to mention that I’ve got neighborhood association practice tonight. I know your ankle’s shot, otherwise I’d ask if you wanted to—”

“Yes,” Nishinoya interrupted. “I’ll go. To say hi to everyone. Just please get me out of this house.”  
  
  
That evening found him stumbling out of Ryu’s car at the community gymnasium parking lot, shoving the ends of his crutches into the gravel. It wasn’t as nostalgic as the high school gym, but he had played enough games with the ladies’ teams to smile at the sight of the old building. Ryu snorted as Nishinoya made his way over to the gymnasium entrance. 

“Those have got to be the shortest crutches I’ve ever seen on an adult.” 

“Hey, say that to my face!” 

Nishinoya planted his weight on his left crutch and swung the right one out, making Ryu dodge to the side with a yelp. When he grounded both his crutches again, there was somebody laughing behind him.

“Good to see you haven’t changed, Nishinoya.”

They looked over their shoulders in unison. The ember of a cigarette bobbed in the night, its owner offering a lazy wave in greeting. 

“Ukai-san!” Nishinoya lit up. 

“Evening, Ukai-san.” Ryu nodded back. 

“You came up from the big city to watch us play, eh?”

Ukai was one to talk about not changing. Nishinoya swore he’d been wearing that same orange hoodie for the past five years non-stop. The three of them made their way over to the gym doors and changed their shoes, Nishinoya with a bit more difficulty than the other two. 

“I need to make sure that Ryu’s not slacking while I’m gone,” Nishinoya said, snickering at Ryu’s roars of protest. 

As they entered the gym, the other members of the neighborhood association caught Nishinoya’s eye and jogged over. There were several minutes of exchanging greetings and long-time-no-sees. 

How’s Nittaidai? (It’s great, no complaints.) How’s the team looking this year? (Better than ever, of course!) Well on your way to going pro? (One day at a time, one day at a time.) 

He could do these conversations on autopilot, he had become so good at them. Nishinoya did just that, while he set his crutches against the wall and Ryu grabbed him a folding chair. 

It was probably all the leftover brain power that allowed Nishinoya to notice the subtle movement of another person entering the gymnasium in the background. Despite his size, he came in almost silently. 

It took a couple moments for the realization to fully sink in. 

He had changed. Some things were the same, but he had definitely changed.

Thick brown hair, tied back in a loose half-bun. Full height concealed by a slight slouch and incline of the neck. Beneath his winter layers, broad shoulders and lean muscles. All this was more or less the same as the last time they met. 

Asahi glanced to his right and immediately met Nishinoya’s eyes. He froze in place, but didn’t shift his gaze. His expression remained static. The muscles around his jaw tightened just a bit. Nishinoya was vaguely aware that the people around them were staring at them staring at each other. He couldn’t be bothered to care.

The points of divergence: Asahi’s stubble was thicker. Maybe four or five days without shaving, if Nishinoya had to guess. New clothes, a thick down jacket over a flannel button-down, plus what looked like bead bracelets peeking out from his sleeves. Were those piercings in his ears? 

Something uncomfortably familiar strained in Nishinoya’s chest.

“Asahi-san,” he said. He couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“Nishinoya,” Asahi said. He faltered. “It’s been a while.” 

What a cop-out.

It wasn’t untrue. They had last seen each other two years ago, when the upperclassmen came back to visit during his third year high school culture festival. He had cheerfully greeted Daichi and Suga, and when Asahi made no attempt to mention the events of his graduation ceremony. Nishinoya proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the day. 

Since then, they hadn’t exchanged words once. Not that they didn’t have each other’s contact information. Wasn’t like they didn’t have the time either. Nishinoya had been back to visit home several times and Asahi’s college schedule was probably similar.

Wait a second.

Nittaidai was a little different, but most university students were studying for final exams around this time. 

So what was Asahi doing back home? 

Ryu cut in before Nishinoya could say anything else. 

“Noya messed up his ankle so he’s taking some time off from school.” 

“That’s a shame, sorry to hear that,” Asahi said, smiling sympathetically. The slight, just-enough curve of his lips struck Nishinoya as shallow.

“What are you apologizing for? Not your fault I got hurt.” His tone sounded even darker than he’d intended. Nishinoya realized he was already scowling. Ryu and Ukai turned toward him, wide-eyed. 

Asahi’s expression remained unchanged, a polite and pleasant smile. 

“I suppose you’re right. Anyway, I hope that it heals up soon.” 

Asahi’s civility was impeccable. But even the idea of “civility” coming from Asahi made Nishinoya want to throw his chair across the gym. 

“What are you doing here, Asahi-san? Your school’s not out yet.” 

In an instant, the atmosphere went from merely tense to flat-out oppressive. Ukai and Ryu stiffened. Nishinoya’s eyes flicked from face to face—did everybody here know something that he didn’t? Ryu put a hand on his shoulder, but he immediately shrugged it off. 

One of the other neighborhood association guys took a step towards Asahi. He put up a hand to indicate that he was fine. 

“Actually, I just stopped by to say hello. I’m feeling a little under the weather, so I don’t think I can play tonight.” Asahi took a step back towards the doorway. 

“Best of luck with your recovery, Nishinoya.” He didn’t even meet Nishinoya’s eyes as he spoke.

“Don’t give me that crap, Asahi, answer my question—!”

But Asahi had already disappeared through the door. Nishinoya pushed off from the wall. With no time to grab his crutches, he half-limped, half-hopped over to the exit. By the time he got there, Asahi was already hurrying to his car, shoulders hunched and head down.

Nishinoya felt Ryu pulling him back into the gym as he struggled with his shoes. He could barely keep his balance on one leg, much less resist someone Ryu’s size holding him back.

“Dude, you gotta chill out.” Ryu shook him roughly for emphasis. “I know you’re pissed but just listen for a second.” 

Nishinoya bristled. 

“The hell I do, did you see the way he treated me? Like we weren’t even _friends_ —”

“You weren’t exactly friendly either.” Ryu frowned, but let go of him. “Stay cool, man. We can talk about it later.” 

Nishinoya lingered by the door to watch Asahi’s car reverse, pull out, and slowly make its way out of the parking lot. At any moment, he could have ignored Ryu, stumbled out onto the gravel and banged his fists on the driver’s window until Asahi looked him in the eye and gave him a decent answer. 

Instead, the taillights of Asahi’s car taunted him as they disappeared into the night.

If it weren’t for his leg, that whole exchange would have gone differently. At least, he wanted to believe it would have. 

“So uh,” Ukai cleared his throat from behind them. “We going to play some volleyball?”

 

The next morning, Asahi woke to a text message from Tanaka.

\- dude I'm so sorry about noya  
\- I wasn’t gonna bring him to practice but he was going stir crazy at home  
\- he's been pretty chilled out lately so I thought maybe he'd be cool??  
\- clearly not  
\- anyway let me make it up to you sometime

Asahi typed out a conciliatory response and shut his phone. Tanaka wasn’t to blame for any of the previous evening’s unpleasantness. Ordinary people didn’t explode the second they encountered an ex, especially not after three years had passed. 

To be honest, seeing Nishinoya out of the blue had startled him too. He hadn’t heard any news about Nishinoya being back in town, nor about his injury. Given Nishinoya’s treatment of him the last time they had met, he had expected to receive the cold shoulder again. Or perhaps he could have been optimistic enough to hope that Nishinoya was no longer bitter about the way their relationship had ended. 

He was not so lucky, it seemed. Thinking about it again turned his stomach. 

After leaving the gymnasium, he ate dinner at his favorite ramen place, went home, cleaned the whole bathroom, and went to sleep. Rather, he went to bed. He still had trouble sleeping these days. 

If he dreamed, he didn’t remember it. When he woke up, Nishinoya’s furious expression hazily floated to the front of his mind.

He had an evening shift at the store that day, so he rolled over and went back to sleep until his phone buzzed with the messages from Tanaka. After sending his response, he rubbed his eyes and pulled back the curtain of his bedroom window. Outside, a light snow had already begun to fall. 

Both of his parents were out, his father on an extended business trip and his mother on a weeklong visit to his aunt’s place in Iwate. Asahi was in charge of the house while they were gone, which mostly meant systematically cleaning every room in the house in order to feel like he was accomplishing something. It helped that their house was old and huge. 

Since he had tackled the bathroom the previous night, his mother’s office was the next cleaning challenge. 

Around one in the afternoon, he took a break to brew a pot of tea and read. While taking classes, he’d had so much compulsory reading that he never had time to attend to his ever-expanding personal reading list. After a couple months at home, he’d whittled away at a good chunk of it.

Again, it provided some semblance of accomplishment. 

Pointedly leaving his cell phone upstairs, Asahi settled under the kotatsu with a mug of tea, a few mikan oranges, and his book. The falling snow outside muffled the ambient sounds of suburbia and he lost track of time after the first few pages. 

Several mugs of tea later, a thumping sound came from the front door. It didn’t sound like somebody knocking with their knuckles, but rather like they were banging something blunt against the door. Moments later, the doorbell buzzed insistently.

Took them long enough to find it.

As Asahi extricated himself from the kotatsu and made his way toward the door, the thumping sounds resumed once more. This was either the grouchy old man from next door, or the most persistent delivery person that Asahi had ever—

He opened the door.

Nishinoya, shivering from head to toe, stood on the front step, holding a crutch aloft as a door knocker.

“...You can’t be serious.”

Nishinoya shifted his crutch back under his arm and scowled. 

“You really need to do something about the ice at the end of your driveway.” 

Asahi glanced down to see Nishinoya’s left side completely soaked. 

“You _fell_?!”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Nishinoya snapped back, making tiny clumps of snow tumble loose from his hair. Nishinoya wore the same leather jacket that he’d worn to the gymnasium, which was probably enough for Tokyo winters but woefully inadequate for Miyagi. What kind of crazy person didn’t even wear a hat, or at least earmuffs, in weather like this? 

Come to think of it, even during high school, Nishinoya never dressed warmly enough for the cold. He was too obsessed with looking cool, with not ruining his hair. Why did he insist on always doing the exact opposite of what made sense?

“What are you even doing here?” Asahi found himself raising his voice. “Did you seriously walk on crutches all the way from your house—without checking the weather? How are you not dead yet?”

“I took the bus—and it’s _just a sprained ankle_! Why is everybody making such a big deal about this?!” Nishinoya shook his crutches for emphasis, nearly making him lose his balance again. Asahi automatically reached out to help, but Nishinoya jerked back and propped himself up on his good leg before Asahi could touch him. He furrowed his brow and fixed his eyes on Asahi.

“Why are you home from college.” 

The tone of his voice barely suggested that it was a question. It was more like a challenge, as if he were saying, “you better have an answer that satisfies me.” 

Then, completely ruining his threatening aura, Nishinoya sucked in a noisy sniffle. His nose and ears shone bright red from the cold. His fingertips seemed to be turning white.

Asahi let out a long exhale.

“...Look, you want some tea?” 

He opened the door wider and shifted out of the way. Nishinoya’s narrowed eyes flicked between Asahi’s face and the open door like a wild animal debating whether or not to take food from a human. 

Sniffling again, Nishinoya shook the remaining snow off his sleeves and shuffled over the threshold.  
  
  
Nishinoya refused to change his clothes, but conceded to warming himself underneath the kotatsu. Several moments of dead silence passed. Nishinoya stared across the kotatsu, making Asahi increasingly uncomfortable. Slowly, he realized that Nishinoya wasn’t going to say anything until he explained himself. 

So he began.

“College wasn’t for me. I knew that from the very beginning, but once I got there, it was really easy to pretend that it was. I don’t know about Nittaidai, but with normal universities, you can spend whole semesters doing basically nothing.” 

Asahi spoke softly, his fingers laced around his mug. He didn’t lift his eyes from his tea completely, but he could tell that Nishinoya hadn’t shifted his gaze from Asahi’s face once since they sat down. Good to know that Nishinoya’s terrifying sense of presence hadn’t weakened one bit.

“Again, I’m sure Nittaidai is different, but job hunting starts during third year for normal university students. All my friends started kicking it into high gear, doing tons of company research, getting their resumes ready, attending informational sessions…” 

Asahi took a deep breath. 

“I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t stand being in that atmosphere when I had no idea what I wanted to do, or not even caring if I graduated. Around last semester’s final exams, I kind of had a meltdown. 

“So when I came home during winter break, I just… didn’t go back. I’m still officially listed as a student, but I’m not enrolled in any classes this semester.” 

The explanation would have been more painful, had he not already given it to his family, then Daichi and Suga. To everybody else, it was simply “I’m taking a semester off.” Most people were understanding enough to leave it at that. 

Nishinoya said nothing for a few moments, perhaps waiting to see if Asahi had anything more to say. Asahi lifted his mug to his mouth and took a sip of tea. Of course, Nishinoya chose that moment to speak up.

“So what, you’re just done?” 

The accusation in his tone stung, but Asahi fought to keep his expression even. He locked eyes with Nishinoya. 

“So what if I am?” 

“Just seems like a waste. You should at least finish, right? You know, since you broke off ties with everyone back home. Even though you were only a train ride away.” 

Asahi snorted, unsure of whether to be amused or angry. Was that was this was all about? He had been right to think that Nishinoya hadn’t changed. Between the two of them, Asahi wouldn’t have guessed that three years down the road, he would come out with better social skills.

“Nishinoya, if you’re talking about us, you can go ahead and say so.”

The floodgates broke. Nishinoya’s face twisted in anger. 

“You _dumped me_ so you could focus on college and now you’re just going to drop out?” 

“We _broke up_ because you were being unreasonable. And even if we hadn’t, we probably would have when you went down to Tokyo.” 

Nishinoya’s fingers twitched. Unable to refute that statement but not willing to back down, he simply ground his teeth together. Asahi’s hands tightened around his mug. It figured that Nishinoya would be this stubborn. 

Something in him refused to let Nishinoya off the hook without owning up to how _wrong_ he was. 

“Unless you’re really telling me that you haven’t been with anybody since you left.” 

Asahi regretted those words the moment they left his mouth. The look on Nishinoya’s face told him everything. Nishinoya _had_ been with other people, most likely several. It made sense—charismatic, good-looking, a volleyball genius—even at an athletic haven like Nittaidai, Nishinoya inevitably stood out. Despite being childishly stubborn, he was also a doting and affectionate partner. Anybody would be lucky to have Nishinoya for a boyfriend.

In one bone-chilling instant, Asahi realized that he was actually jealous. A white-hot wire of envy wrapped itself around his insides and started strangling them tight. It stung all the more knowing that he had been the one to bring it up in the first place.

“Yeah, well what about you?” Nishinoya sputtered. “Mister—Hipster Beard! Mister Bracelets and Piercings—!”

“Are you really making this about the way I dress?” Asahi ran a hand through his hair, holding back his exasperation. 

Undeterred, Nishinoya pressed on, his eyes savage, his face beginning to flush red again.

“I bet you’ve been with all kinds of artsy college guys, am I right?” 

Asahi shook his hand free and narrowed his eyes. 

“What, and you haven’t been with those athletic Nittaidai girls?”

Nishinoya’s mouth opened soundlessly for a brief moment, stunned, before he caught himself.

“So what if I have?!” Nishinoya snapped back, his brow crumpled in anger—and, unexpectedly, hurt.

Asahi drew a deep breath, grimacing. His insides constricted tighter still. He had imagined several times what it would be like to talk to Nishinoya again, but it had never played out like this in his mind.

Fighting to keep his temper under control, he breathed out slowly. He didn’t have to play Nishinoya’s stupid games. He could be the better person here. 

“Whatever. You found out what you came to ask, right? I’m driving you home now.” He pushed himself out from under the kotatsu and started to rise to his feet. 

“Hold it.” Nishinoya started to scramble to his feet as well, but bumped his bad leg against the corner of the kotatsu and hissed in pain. 

“Damn it, Nishinoya, _be more careful_ —”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” 

Just as Asahi opened his mouth to respond, the shrill ringing of his house phone broke through their argument. They exchanged a glance. Nishinoya drew his shoulders together, bristling. Sighing, Asahi pulled his legs out from the kotatsu and made his way over to the telephone mounted on the wall. Putting the receiver to his ear, he forced his temper down to speak in an even tone.

“Hello, Azumane here.”  
  
  
The call came from his boss at the store. The news: an emergency weather alert had been declared for that evening and he was relieved from his evening shift. He was definitely not allowed to drive or go out for dinner that night—that was an order. 

While Asahi was on the phone, Nishinoya dragged himself over to the window to look at the state of the roads. He tapped his foot against his crutches restlessly, fidgeting with pent-up anxiety until Asahi ended his call.

“The buses might still be running,” Nishinoya said, not turning around to face Asahi. 

“That’s a terrible idea, you barely made it here in one piece.” 

“What do _you_ care?” 

Nishinoya’s tone cut deeper than Asahi cared to let on. He avoided looking at him and bent over to collect the empty orange peels from the table.

“I just don’t want to be responsible for when you fall and crack your head and nobody finds you until the snow melts.” Asahi paused. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nishinoya turn and glare at him. “If you’ve said what you wanted to say, then just… stay here and wait. Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to make some dinner and take you home once the snow lets up.”

To be honest, he just wanted to do something with his hands so that he didn’t wring Nishinoya’s neck for having the gall to march into his house and pick apart his life choices after not saying a word to him for three years. 

He marched out of the living room before Nishinoya had a chance to argue.  
  
  
With the leftover ingredients in the refrigerator and the remaining rice in the rice cooker, there was just enough to make fried rice. Because he was merely annoyed and not heartless, Asahi laid out enough ingredients for two people’s worth. He barely finished dicing the first onion when Nishinoya hobbled into the kitchen on his crutches. 

He should have remembered that Nishinoya was not the kind of person who would simply open up the nearest book and pass the time quietly. With his leg in its current state, rendering him unable to play volleyball or go for a run, it was a wonder that Nishinoya hadn’t self-destructed already.

Asahi did his best to ignore Nishinoya as he shoved himself up onto a kitchen stool and stared from the other side of the counter. 

“What was so bad about it that you had to leave?” 

Nishinoya voice was steady and even, not a trace of the anger from moments before. If he were still being spiteful, it would have been easy to disregard him. Of course he would make it difficult for Asahi by being sincere. 

“I thought I already explained that,” Asahi replied curtly. He rinsed the kitchen knife and moved on to dicing the carrots.

“You said you got all stressed out and had a breakdown because of job hunting anxiety. I was listening.” Nishinoya leaned across the counter on his forearms. “But you could definitely get a job if you tried. You’re hard-working, pretty smart, and you read like, a ton of books.”

“‘Pretty smart,’” Asahi echoed. “Good to see you’re still great with compliments.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

Asahi’s hands paused. He didn’t look up. 

“I just didn’t want to,” he said finally. “I didn’t see the point. You know how I get, Nishinoya. Do you really see me working in an office cubicle in Sendai for the rest of my life?” 

Nishinoya chewed on that for a moment, then opened his mouth as if to say something. Fear bubbled up from deep in Asahi’s stomach and before Nishinoya could form the words, Asahi blurted out,

“What about you? Have you already been talking to scouts about going pro?” 

Nishinoya clammed up instantly. He retracted his arms, tightened his shoulders. Even from the corner of his eye, Asahi could see the difference. 

“Scouts will be coming around next season.” Nishinoya’s serious tone had altered completely. He spoke like he was telling a secondhand rumor, as if it had nothing to do with him. 

“Sounds exciting.” Asahi resumed chopping the vegetables. “You looking at any teams in particular?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

That much was obvious. 

“Isn’t pro volleyball the reason you went to Nittaidai in the first place?” Asahi pressed.

Nishinoya snorted.

“I went to Nittaidai because they offered me a volleyball scholarship and I didn’t have to worry about any stupid tests.” 

“You didn’t think about what would happen after you graduated?” Asahi looked up to see Nishinoya glancing vaguely off to the side. He furrowed his brow. “You don’t ever consider the future or think ahead—how does that not bother you?” 

“At least I’m not quitting before I’ve even finished,” Nishinoya spat underneath his breath.

A few years ago, that might have stunned Asahi into silence. Now, it was all he could do to stop his arms from shaking with frustration. 

“Not everything in life is about winning or quitting, Nishinoya. Have you ever stopped to think about what you actually want to _do_ with your life?”

He brought the knife down on the cutting board with a bit too much force and nicked his finger. Nishinoya sat up straight in his seat and reached across the counter.

“Asahi-san, your hands—”

Nishinoya’s eyebrows lifted in concern, conversation completely forgotten. His gaze zeroed in on the blood welling up at Asahi’s fingertip. Asahi set aside the knife and withdrew his hand before Nishinoya came too close.

“Noya, I’m fine—”

“You’re bleeding—!”

“Why do you care so much?” Asahi cut him off, raising his voice. “I thought you had moved on.”

“I did!” Nishinoya all but shouted. For a moment, neither of them said a word. Then, hesitantly, Nishinoya murmured, “Does that mean that I’m not allowed to care that you’re hurt?”

Asahi stood speechless, holding Nishinoya’s gaze. His eyes had the same earnest gleam as when they were in high school, when he promised Asahi that he’d wait for him and actually meant it. 

“Asahi-san.” Nishinoya broke the silence, looking down again. “Your hand is still bleeding.”  
  
  
When Asahi returned to the kitchen from the bathroom, he found Nishinoya sitting at his kitchen table with his leg propped up on another chair. He was watching the snow falling outside with his head resting on his arm, his expression far-off and thoughtful.

It would have made an excellent photo. Asahi couldn’t remember seeing Nishinoya look so pensive or quiet outside of a volleyball court. Perhaps this was a new, twenty-year-old Noya thing.

Reluctant to resume the previous conversation and not wanting to disturb Nishinoya’s calm moment, Asahi returned to the kitchen counter and picked up dinner preparations from where he left off. Luckily, he hadn’t dripped blood on any of the ingredients. 

Washing off the knife, he finished prepping the vegetables and meat, then began frying it all together. The hiss of oil on the frying pan obscured the silence between them and before long, Asahi fell into the rhythm of the task in front of him. Having something to do with his hands usually helped him sort through his thoughts, or at least settle his mind until he was ready to give it a shot. 

Once he finished the fried rice, Asahi scooped out a portion into a spare bowl and upended it on a plate, producing a perfect mound of golden-brown rice and neatly diced ingredients. 

Only then did he turn and look at Nishinoya, still seated at the table, but now with his eyes trained directly on the fried rice.

“You want some?” Asahi asked. 

“You know how much fried rice I eat, going to Ryu’s place all the time?” Nishinoya frowned petulantly. “Of course I want some.” 

Asahi snorted and served up another portion, bringing both plates over to the table. 

Without the sounds of cooking to fill the air, the two of them ate in silence. Nishinoya tore into his food like he always did, eating like there was a time limit. About halfway through his portion, Nishinoya finally stopped and looked across the table. 

“This is really good, Asahi-san.” 

“It’s just fried rice.” 

“No, but like. It’s really good.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Have you thought about going back to university?” 

Asahi set down his spoon with a sharp rattle. 

“Nishinoya, how are you not over this?”

“I am over it! I just can’t believe you’re—” Nishinoya faltered. 

“What, giving up on my dreams? I never wanted to attend university in the first place. You were always way more excited about it than I was.” Asahi paused, then lowered his voice. “I just can’t imagine myself going down the same road as everybody else.” 

“So what are you going to do?” Nishinoya fidgeted with his spoon, leaning one elbow on the table. Asahi leaned back in his seat and put his hands in his lap. 

“I don’t know.” Asahi sighed. “But I thought that spending some time not knowing would be better than going on pretending that I did.” 

Nishinoya flipped his spoon back and forth in his hand. His mouth quirked to the side, as if words were trying to escape. Asahi watched him curiously for a few moments and when Nishinoya remained quiet, he returned to his meal. 

A few spoonfuls of rice later, Nishinoya finally opened his mouth again.

“I thought I’d care more about the pro scouts.” Nishinoya’s voice was soft. His eyes drifted to the side as he spoke. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t care at all, but compared to everyone else—Bokuto-san and the rest are really stoked. Coach keeps talking about how this is our big chance. Third year’s not too early to get scouted, apparently.” 

He snapped his spoon down with a clatter, raising his voice. 

“It’s all just a big beauty contest! I don’t even _care_! I just want to play volleyball—not attach myself to some big name company and strut around like the rest of those hot shit pro guys. It’s not cool at all. It feels cheap.” 

Nishinoya cast his gaze down to his legs, lowering his voice again. 

“Besides, just one little fuck up could send the whole thing down the drain anyway.” He made a fist and punched at his leg, snorting. “You know, this is my third time getting injured since starting college play? First time it’s benched me, though. Coach pulled me aside and said that I needed to play less reckless, that losing one ball wasn’t as bad as losing my career.”

Nishinoya clicked his tongue and scowled.

“That’s not how I play volleyball at all.” 

Asahi said nothing for a few moments, waiting to see if Nishinoya had anything more to say. Nishinoya took a few deep breaths, then finally looked up to meet Asahi’s eyes. Something long-buried in Asahi’s chest began to ache. He took in a short breath.

“You want to spend the night?” Asahi asked.

“Yeah,” Nishinoya said, almost immediately. “I really do.”  
  
  
They polished off the rest of their food and cleaned up, although when Nishinoya looked back on the evening later, he couldn’t remember that part so clearly. Mostly he remembered sneaking glances at Asahi between every action, trying to get a handle on what exactly Asahi was thinking and feeling.

He’d been such an open book before. Nishinoya wasn’t used to having to guess. 

As Asahi wiped down the kitchen counters, Nishinoya ducked into the hallway to call his parents, tell them that he’d be spending the night at a friend’s because of the snow. That required a little explanation of _why_ he had even left the house in the first place, did he have some kind of death wish? 

By the time he was finished, Asahi was poking his head into the hall. 

“They’re not upset?” he asked. 

“Only for me being an idiot and trying to go somewhere on my crutches in the snow.” 

“It’s not just me that thinks so, then.” Asahi smirked. 

“You’re not going to get any brownie points by siding with my mother, Asahi-san.” 

Nishinoya hefted his crutches under his arms and started the journey up the stairs, which seemed destined to end in failure. He discarded one and grabbed hold of the stair railing with the other hand, getting ready to hop up on one leg, when Asahi swooped in and pulled Nishinoya’s arm over his shoulder.

“No, not happening,” Asahi grunted. “You are not entering this house with a sprained ankle and leaving with a broken leg.” 

“I totally had it under control,” Nishinoya argued, twisting in Asahi’s grip. 

Asahi’s face was extremely close. Nishinoya could smell his hair—he’d changed shampoo brands. 

“Just shut up and let me help you, Noya—” 

Nishinoya dropped his remaining crutch. His hand flew to Asahi’s cheek, cupping it as he pulled in close for a kiss. 

For a moment, Asahi resisted. 

Nishinoya’s heart stopped.

Asahi was never going to talk to him again. This was all a huge mistake. He’d misunderstood when Asahi said he should stay the night. 

Then Asahi’s other arm wound around him, drawing him close and supporting his weight. He leaned into the kiss, parting his lips for Nishinoya. His mouth was soft and warm. It still tasted faintly of salt from the rice.

 _‘Fuck yes.’_ Nishinoya threw his arms around Asahi’s neck and pulled himself up, dragging Asahi down in the process. Asahi lost his balance and stumbled, nearly sending them both tumbling down the stairs had Asahi not grabbed hold of Nishinoya, who grabbed hold of the stair rail. 

They glanced at one another, breathing heavily from both the kiss and nearly falling down the stairs. Nishinoya helped pull Asahi upright again, nudging one of the crutches in the process. It clattered down to the base of the stairs. 

“...Let’s just get to my room first,” Asahi said finally.  
  
  
After several failed body arrangements, Nishinoya ended up seated on the edge of Asahi’s bed with Asahi knelt on the floor between his legs. Just the sight of Asahi on his knees in front of him was enough to make Nishinoya’s head spin, not to mention the new piercings and aftershave. He kissed Asahi’s face and neck hungrily, his hands roving up and down Asahi’s back and shoulders. 

He was also hard enough that his erection strained against his jeans, but that could wait. Taking Asahi’s hands in his own, he placed them on his hips and underneath the hem of his shirt, nudging and encouraging Asahi to bring them upwards.

Instead, Asahi stilled his hands. He pulled away and fixed Nishinoya with a firm stare.

“I don’t want to do this if it’s just a one-time thing.” 

Nishinoya opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. He took that second to get another good look the man in front of him.

God, Asahi looked so good with his hair all mussed up. He’d forgotten how much he loved that sight. Nishinoya reached up and took a few locks between his fingers, stroking behind Asahi’s ears. Reveling in the tenderness of that contact, the fact that Asahi even let him, Nishinoya murmured,

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Asahi smiled softly and settled his hands on Nishinoya’s hips. 

“I know what that’s like.” Asahi shifted his legs beneath him, rising so he could sit beside Nishinoya on the bed. “Let’s just go to bed, then.” 

Nishinoya pouted. 

“Come on, Asahi-san.” 

“Nope.” Asahi leaned over and placed a kiss on Nishinoya’s temple. “I don’t sleep around, I don’t have the constitution for it.” 

“We can’t just—?”

“Nope.”

Nishinoya sighed. He wanted to push back. Were it anybody else on any other day, he probably would. But it was Asahi, and this was the first that they had spoken, really spoken, in years.

Just sharing a bed would have to be enough.

He changed into one of Asahi’s spare shirts and they curled up in Asahi’s bed, just like they used to when they were in high school. To keep his right leg elevated on a pillow, Nishinoya had to lie on his back, which left Asahi laying on his side to his left, head nestled near Nishinoya’s shoulder. 

Perhaps in apology for denying him anything more, Asahi lay still and allowed Nishinoya to play with his hair. Nishinoya unfastened Asahi’s bun and ran his hands through his hair as they talked in low voices, watching the sky darken outside the window. 

Nishinoya talked about Nittaidai, about his team and their recent games. About what a royal pain in the ass Bokuto Koutarou could be. About Tokyo life in general, how everything was too expensive and crowded—but it was nice to actually have his choice of movie theatres. 

Asahi talked a little about university, but talked more about his friends. About camping trips they took on the weekends, how one friend taught him guitar for a short while but Asahi was absolutely terrible at it. How he became friends with the barista at the cafe down the street from campus because he used to play on another Miyagi high school volleyball team and remembered Asahi from previous inter-high games.

Nishinoya wondered how many of those friends were boyfriends, but swallowed the question before it escaped his lips.

The sun went down. The room was quiet and dark when Asahi shifted close and said softly,

“At graduation, when I said all those things while I was trying to break up with you… What I should have said was that _I_ wasn’t ready for long distance.” He took a deep breath and when Nishinoya didn’t interrupt, went on. “I was scared that I would be lonely and try to cling too tight to you… I just didn’t know how to say that.” 

Nishinoya turned his head toward Asahi, burying his face in his hair. 

“That’s so dumb,” he mumbled.

“I think we can safely say that we both said dumb things,” Asahi said, yawning. Nishinoya snorted and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of Asahi breathing. He wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before he cracked open his eyes and whispered,

“Do you still feel that way, Asahi-san?” 

No reply came. 

Nishinoya sighed and shut his eyes again to join Asahi in slumber.  
  
  
The next morning, Nishinoya awoke alone in Asahi’s bed. 

Stumbling to the window, he glanced outside to see the roads plowed and the Azumane driveway shoveled. At the head of the driveway, he could see Asahi crouched over next to his family’s car, fitting the wheels with snow chains. 

Unable to shake the sense that he had missed his chance at something extremely important, Nishinoya began the arduous process of changing into his clothes and getting his ass down the stairs. 

They drove back to Nishinoya’s house while listening to the background hum of the local news from Asahi’s car radio. Although the streets were plowed, Asahi was one of the only drivers on the road. From Asahi’s front door to Nishinoya’s street, it felt like nearly the whole town had disappeared overnight and they were two of the few who remained. Just like in the movies.

Asahi pulled to a stop at the curb beside Nishinoya’s house, leaving some space for Nishinoya to open the door without hitting a snowbank. As Nishinoya clambered out of the passenger side, Asahi cleared his throat. 

“I got a new phone. I’ll give you my number before you go,” he stammered. “If you ever need someone to talk to—I mean, I know that you could probably just call Tanaka—and I can’t make any promises about where I’ll be either—but… I’m here. I’ll listen. I know what it’s like to feel like you have no one to talk to.” 

Unsure of what to say, Nishinoya simply stared. Then nodded. 

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Ah—” Asahi smiled sheepishly. “Here, I’ll come around to help you.” 

Asahi climbed out of the driver’s side and walked around the car to help Nishinoya down, crutches and all. Once on his feet, Nishinoya slipped his phone out of his jacket pocket and handed it over, trying to keep himself from shaking in the cold. Asahi shivered a bit as well as he tugged off his gloves to tap in his number.

“There, I saved it under—”

“Asahi-san,” Nishinoya interrupted. “I think I’m still in love with you. I think I have been since high school.” Three year’s worth of frustration and sadness welled up in his chest. Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Fighting to keep his voice under control, he took in a sharp breath. 

“I just thought you should know that. Is it still okay if I call you?” 

Asahi’s eyes widened, his mouth falling wordlessly open. Then, with no hesitation, he threw his arms around Nishinoya and hugged him tight to his chest. Nishinoya wrapped his arms around Asahi’s broad back and squeezed him close in return, breathing in his scent. 

Pulling away slowly, Asahi brought their faces close together, leaving just enough space for Nishinoya to—

“aaaAAH, I’m sorry!” Asahi yelped, jerking back suddenly and holding up his hands. His face was flushed, eyes frantic. “I forgot that we were still in public. I’m sorry—”

Nishinoya burst out laughing. A real, belly-clenching laugh. It was such a familiar scene, he couldn’t help himself. Asahi, looking vaguely put-upon, offered a wry, embarrassed smile as Nishinoya propped himself up on his crutches and guffawed.

When he finally recovered, Nishinoya wiped tears away from the corners of his eyes, unsure anymore if they were from crying or laughing. 

“So?” he asked. 

“Um, yes.” Asahi nodded, his cheeks still dusted pink. “It’s okay. If you call.” 

Asahi handed Nishinoya’s phone back. Nishinoya dared to touch Asahi’s hands for a few extra moments as he accepted it. 

“Take care, Noya.” Asahi smiled. “Let me know how things go.” 

“You too, Asahi-san.” 

Nishinoya slipped his phone back into his pocket and shrugged his crutches under his arms. With a brisk, final nod, he started to make his way back up to his front door.

From the quiet that settled in his wake, he knew without turning around that Asahi hadn’t gotten back in his car, hadn’t moved from the spot where he stood. Nishinoya sucked in a breath and bit his lip, trying to fight off another wave of tears that threatened to spill over. 

Something deep inside of him had thawed, kindled back to life after too many winters in Tokyo. It was too early to put a name on it, but it would be there waiting, ready for him when the time came. He knew that with the same certainty that he knew his way home, even from hundreds of kilometers away.

 

 _an epilogue_  
  
On the way back to the airport, Ryu played the same mix CD that he had played when he picked Nishinoya up. As they hit the highway to Sendai, he drummed his hands on the steering wheel and grinned sidelong at Nishinoya.

“So. Let’s run over the things you managed to accomplish with one week back home on a sprained ankle.”

Nishinoya cackled. 

“Alright, let’s do it.” 

Ryu cleared his throat with gravitas. 

“One: We beat the new Sonic game, after many trials and tribulations.” 

“No thanks to your many, many deaths.” Nishinoya elbowed him over the gear shift. 

“What can I say?” Ryu sighed. “I had to go fast.” 

“Two,” Nishinoya continued. “We’ve reclaimed our achievement of watching every single kung fu movie at the local library.” 

“I could’ve cried when I saw they got the new Taiwanese remakes.” Ryu pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. Nishinoya also shed a single invisible tear in solidarity. 

Once the moment passed, Nishinoya sat up a bit in his seat. 

“Oh yeah, three: I got Asahi-san’s new phone number.” 

Ryu snapped his head to the left, taking his eyes off the road for a dangerously long stretch of time. 

“You _what_?!”

 

 _epilogue pt. 2_  
  
When Nishinoya finally called, there wasn’t a flake of Miyagi snow left on the ground. Asahi had just returned to his room after dinner with his parents. His phone went off in his pocket and, thinking that it was Ukai or his boss, he nearly ignored it. 

Luckily, he spared a glance to check the name on the caller ID. 

He quickly accepted the call and placed the phone to his ear. The caller spoke up without waiting for a greeting. 

“Asahi-san?” Nishinoya’s voice sounded so small on the phone, not at all like his sense of presence in person. 

Asahi sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Hey, Nishinoya.” Asahi let his smile creep into his voice. “How’s the leg doing?” 

“All healed up, no sweat. Just finished up practice, back in my room now.” 

Asahi imagined Nishinoya laying on his dorm room bed, his towel from the shower still on his shoulders, his hair still wet and framing his face.

“Ah, then give my regards to your roommates.” 

“They’re out. Actually, Asahi-san.” On the other end of the phone, the bed squeaked and covers shifted. “I was wondering if you had a while. To talk.” 

A small spark of affection fluttered to life in Asahi’s stomach at the awkward, yet slightly excited tone in Nishinoya’s voice. 

“Yeah.” Asahi leaned back on his own bed. “I’ve got time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! This fic was inspired by the brilliant [Vienna Waits For You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4709099/chapters/10754660) by [Pouler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/poulerslashes/pseuds/Pouler), please go read it if you haven't already! I loved the premise so much that I had to try my hand at a similar scenario.


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